


Twenty Sherlolly Prompts: On The Road Again

by MizJoely



Series: Twenty Sherlolly Prompts [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 17:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2238210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tiatess from tumblr said: Aw, ok, Prompt! I'd love to read some traveling related sherlolly fic, wherein both sherlock and molly travel to consult on a case and wackiness ensues. (As much as that's an awful phrase, haha.) Pick a rating, whatever you're feeling!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty Sherlolly Prompts: On The Road Again

**Author's Note:**

> And here I present to you number 12 in this series. Only 8 more to go, whoo hoo!

“I told you the tyre was going flat.”

Sherlock gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore his traveling companion’s complacent ‘I told you so’ comment. She’d been complaining ever since their last stop that she thought the rear passenger-side tyre looked ‘mooshy’, chiding him for ignoring her and not looking at it, and now that she’d been proven right – and he was stuck trying to change a flat in the middle of nowhere with only a smug pathologist for assistance – she wouldn’t shut up about it.

Then again, it was technically his fault. Not the flat, but for asking Molly to come with him on this case while John and Mary were busy with their newborn daughter.

Molly didn’t normally annoy him; he quite enjoyed bringing her along on the occasional case, especially now that she’d gotten rid of her idiot fiancé. He still hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell her why he was pleased she’d gotten rid of Tim or Don or whatever the hell Meat Dagger’s name had been, and had been hoping a few more cases together would give her a hint. Then she could ask him and he could answer her and it would save him having to figure out how to tell her that she was…

“A pain in the arse!” he blurted out as she smugly pointed out that he was trying to use the wrong part of the tyre iron to loosen the bolts. It was bad enough that she’d been right about the ‘mooshy’ tyre in the first place. Or that she’d been right when she corrected him on how to use the jack provided in the rental car. 

Molly made a huff of annoyance at his outburst and crossed her arms over her chest. She was long days away from being skittish around him, from flinching at his bad tempers or running off in tears at some horrible thing he’d said…wait, no, strike that; Molly had never run off in tears from anything he’d said to her, no matter how horrible. She’d kept her feelings to herself in the beginning, but then she’d started calling him out on his insensitivity – starting with that one Christmas he would much rather forget yet could never quite eradicate from his Mind Palace. 

That, he realized as he dropped the iron to the ground and rose to his feet, was when it had happened. Oh, before that he’d always trusted her, she’d always counted from the first day he met her even if it had taken him a few years to realize he’d never communicated that fact to her, but when she called him out on his mistaken, jealous (jealous? Yes, jealous) deductions of her that Christmas, that was when his feelings had irrevocably altered.

“I love you,” he said, turning to face her. She stared at him in obvious shock, so he swiftly moved into her personal space and lightly grasped her upper arms. He gazed directly into her confused brown eyes, willing her to see and hear and feel his sincerity as he repeated his words. “I love you, Molly Hooper. I’ve loved you for such a long time now, but I was an idiot and shied away from it. Emotions are dangerous, sentiment is a chemical defect, I’ve always believed those words, but I know better. I love you,” he said for the third time. “And you need to know that. Even if it’s too late for us to be anything more than friends…”

He was silenced by her lips softly meeting his, her arms encircling his shoulders as his automatically enfolded themselves around her slim waist. “I love you too, you daft man,” Molly whispered when the kiss ended. “I always have and I always will.”

“Good, that’s good,” Sherlock said with a sigh of relief. “So…what now?”

She pulled away from just enough to look up at him, a sparkle of amusement in her eyes and a small smile gracing her delicate lips. “Well, right now you finish changing that tyre. Then we go on to Devonshire and wrap up this case – you said it was barely a five, so I’m confident you can take care of it today – and then we find a nice little inn with some shops nearby.”

“Shops? For what?” Sherlock asked, for once not able to follow her train of thought.

Her grin deepened. “For the obvious, silly! I don’t carry condoms around with me all the time, and I doubt you do either! And then we’ll need toothbrushes and such since this wasn’t meant to be an overnight stay, and I’ll need to contact Mike and let him know I won’t be in tomorrow…”

“For the rest of the week,” Sherlock corrected her as he fished out his mobile and began texting furiously. “We might as well make this a proper sex hol—er, honeymoon,” he corrected himself, giving her a guilty look. But she just laughed and shook her head.

“Call it what you like, Sherlock, but it’s not a proper honeymoon until we get married.”

“Oh, I’m having Mycroft take care of that for us,” he replied absently as he finished sending the text. “I’ve instructed him to find us a minister so we can be married today, he’ll fiddle the paperwork, then when you’ve moved into Baker Street we can talk about how many children we want – I would prefer to limit it to two, but I know you’ve always wanted at least three…”

This time he was silenced by an even more enthusiastic kiss as Molly pressed herself against him, squeezing him tight and smiling through sudden tears. Oh, damn, he’d broken his spotless record of not making Molly cry, and all because he’d been too impulsive… “We don’t have to, it can wait until you’re ready, the marriage and the moving in,” he stammered out. “Just, please don’t cry, Molly. Please.” He wasn’t even ashamed of the begging note in his voice, as long as the tears stopped falling.

“You daft man,” she said, shaking her head and allowing him to use his thumbs to gently wipe the tears away. “Get used to seeing me cry when I’m happy, all right? And yes, I accept your proposal and I’ll move in with you and two kids is probably enough but we’ll see how we feel about it after the first one’s born? And on that note,” she added with another wicked grin, “I guess we can skip buying the condoms, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathed in response, then hurried back to the car, crouching down and changing the flat in record time.

They had the rest of their lives together, but he was desperately impatient to start that ‘rest of their lives’ as soon as possible.


End file.
